


When Uptight Meets Unrefined

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [21]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: ??? I guess???, Bukkake, Closet Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Greg is just happy to be there in a way, Greg's POV, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, but pretending he's fine like the dog in the house on fire, god there may be spoilers up through episode 7 of season 2 sorry, greg is a tall gangly twink in over his head but also a manipulative lil shit in his own way, please keep in mind Tom is an absolute utter Sub, rambling prose, sloppy blow jobs, tom is absolutely losing control of the situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 18:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21123176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It’s just another day of fucking around in the office, pretending whatever Tom has him doing is somehow enough to keep him off his phone, browsing for porn. Greg would never do that on a company computer, he’s just looked up the closest movie showtime he can make when he gets off.Not offoff, like that.





	When Uptight Meets Unrefined

**Author's Note:**

> the absolute irony of a self drag that is the beginning of this fic [except i used to WRITE it at werk] and also YEAH ive been wanting these two to like get the fucking over with goddamnit and yet HBO fails to deliver on the superb tension they've been serving. so anywayyy. heres part 1. day 27 will be part 2 :D

It’s just another day of fucking around in the office, pretending whatever Tom has him doing is somehow enough to keep him off his phone, browsing for porn. Greg would  _ never _ do that on a company computer, he’s just looked up the closest movie showtime he can make when he gets off. Not off  _ off _ , like that. Sadly. He almost wishes there was an intern he found interesting enough to go after, or at least attempt to flirt with by throwing around the family name. Greg grimaces.

No, that’s more Roman’s style, and he’s not looking for a restraining order or an rape charge that needs to be wiped out. He spins around in his chair one more time and then spots movement out of the corner of his eye. It’s Tom. 

The man looks worried. Could be constipation too. Tom looks like that nearly every day, and he’s not even in charge of anything that nerve wracking. “Hi Tom!” Greg calls, with a cheery wave. Tom snaps his fingers at him, expression shifting minutely. “Follow me.” Tom says, probably trying to bark authoritatively but coming off as his usual self, again. 

He’s soft spoken, not made for yelling. It’s partly why he’s the least intimidating member of the Roy family. 

Or rather,  _ extended _ family. He and Greg have more in common than most folks in that office would suspect. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” He’s trailing after Tom into what looks like an abandoned meeting room, but the man hasn’t stopped walking, not until they’re right in front of some kind of storage room. “Is there coffee in here or-”

Tom’s hand grabs his wrist, unexpectedly strong, though Greg isn’t blind, he can tell the man is stronger than him by simple math. “Look, I don’t want to go through the trouble of paying some escort to listen to a sob story after they fuck me, but Shiv and I haven’t had sex in two months. I know I’m not supposed to care because it’s an open marriage or whatever bullshit line she fed me, I forget the exact words. I want you to suck my dick.” Greg has to blink a few times, his brain still processing everything that Tom said, after having taken a literal verbal dump on him with, and by then, they’re securely inside the second room, where it’s very dark, and all he has to go on is the man’s broad shadow. 

“You want… me?” Before he can ask specifics like, is Tom sure that Shiv is okay with this, considering it’s literally incest of a sort, both of the man’s massive hands are clapping his shoulders, and shoving him very hard in a southerly direction. 

“Yes, yes, get on your knees and open your mouth already.” Greg is far from protesting, after all, there’s two definitive objects that have been burning a hole in his wallet ever since the sex party, where he never got to use them. 

Tom lets go of him only long enough to lower his zipper, and fish out his huge dick from wherever it lurks in his pants when he’s not got a raging erection. Greg swallows thickly and blinks into the relative darkness as he feels the looming warmth near his cheek. “So I just-” He’s playing it up, and he knows  _ damn _ well that Tom doesn’t suspect he’s anything but a blushing virgin, but it’s kind of cute the way he sighs, sounding exasperated, before the man is petting a hand roughly over his hair, then down his face. “Just pretend it’s like a Popsicle, you had those when you were a kid right?” 

Greg has to choke back a laugh. Worse visual analogy ever, Tom, but okay. 

“Ye-yeah.” He answers, wobbling his voice a little, then that dick is just  _ there _ , hello, smacking right into his mouth, wet on the tip, because Tom is actually desperate, it seems. “Okay, well, good then get to it.” Tom’s usual calm tone is breathy and trembles a little at the last word, so Greg goes for it, leaning in close, taking half that mammoth dick into his mouth, just shy of gagging himself on it, because the man’s hips roll forward too, not smoothly. 

He uses his hands too, bracing himself on Tom’s hips, feeling that, despite his put together appearance, the man feels like he’s lost weight, the last time Greg hugged him was around thanksgiving, nearly six months ago. He’d been soft in the middle, the relaxed sort of weight one gets after becoming engaged, but far enough off from the wedding. 

_ God, what has Shiv done to you, man? _ Maybe it’s wrong to place the blame solely on her well dressed shoulders, Tom working with the family business in a more full time capacity can’t be good for his stress levels either. 

Greg doesn’t do shit and he still feels uneasy in the office. He keeps going though, feeling how Tom reacts with positivity, one hand firmly gripping his hair, the other on his shoulder, as if he’s afraid Greg is going to jerk away now, when he’s fucking drooling down his chin and neck from how much saliva he’s using on the man’s dick. 

He all but rolls his eyes, and then squeezes his hands, attempting to be soothing, moaning loudly over Tom, hearing the slurpy noises and fighting the urge to be embarrassed. Tom is so into it he has to let go of Greg’s shoulder and bite the back of his wrist, barely succeeding in muffling the loud groan he lets out, as he jerks his hips forward. 

“Uh fuck, I’m close, here.” Tom pants out, pulling away suddenly, shocking Greg, for one, but the next thing he hears is the man hissing for him to shut his eyes. The wet sounds of Tom jerking himself off the rest of the way fill the tiny room, just edging out his pounding heartbeat by the tiniest bit, and Greg opens his mouth too, just in time, feeling warm wet splatters hit his face, over his cheeks and nose, dripping over his chin and onto his tongue. “Oh-h-h shit, Christ on a cracker.” Tom curses, by far the worst dirty talk Greg has ever heard, and he’s a porn connoisseur. It’s actually kind of cute, but it also explains a lot if he hasn’t had sex in a while. “Sorry, I just… I didn’t want to repeat what I did last time.” Tom says, by way of apology for making a Jackson Pollock painting out of Greg’s face. 

“Yeah it’s fine. I wouldn’t spit it in your mouth and make you swallow it. But what the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

He reaches up and wipes a hand over his face, feeling the slimy wetness growing sticky already. His own cock is throbbing in his pants, making a wet spot on the front of his boxers. 

Tom is still looming over him, and Greg is ready to hump the man’s leg. “Shit. I don’t have time to jerk you off. Sorry.” The man is putting his dick away, zipping himself up, then cracking the door, peeking out to make sure it’s all clear. 

Greg is starting to get angry now, with face growing hot, and he stumbles to his feet, grabbing for Tom, but the man is slippery, like a ferret, deftly slipping out of the room, putting a hand to his hair, smoothing it out. 

“Maybe use a baby wipe or something. It just looks like sweat. You’re good.” Tom is grinning now, like it’s all a big joke. Greg narrows his eyes, “Hey, fuck you.” 

“You too buddy.” Tom waves at him, halfway out the door, in the hall, surrounded by too many people for Greg to chase him or tackle him, like he sure wishes he could. “Fuck.” He takes off his jacket and just roughly wipes at his face, feeling annoyed that now he’ll have to get this dry cleaned and fight the urge to explain why. Greg is too much of a rambler.

**Author's Note:**

> day 21: ** Bukakke | ** <strike> Food play | Suspension | Branding </strike>


End file.
